


Bound

by DarkAngelOfSorrowReturns



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, Beltane, Blood Ritual, BunnyBounce19, Canon Divergence, F/M, Fic Exchange, HermionesHaven, Multi, Reg doesn't die, Ritual, Romance, Shower Sex, Smut, Spring, Threesome, Time Travel, Triad - Freeform, light banter, light humor, spring fic, themed fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-29
Updated: 2019-03-29
Packaged: 2019-12-26 04:50:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,689
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18276131
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarkAngelOfSorrowReturns/pseuds/DarkAngelOfSorrowReturns
Summary: When the Ministry implements a marriage law to try and combat the numerous losses from the second Wizarding War with Voldemort, Hermione finds herself going to lengths she never expected. Nor did she expect to end up with the two wizards fate sent her.





	Bound

**Author's Note:**

  * For [GaeilgeRua](https://archiveofourown.org/users/GaeilgeRua/gifts).



> Things are altered for obvious reasons. I tried incorporating the Beltane love ritual with alterations to fit with the magical world. Hope you enjoy!

The parchment shook between her hands, the tremble resulting from anger, not fear. The  _ nerve  _ of the Ministry implementing something so...so...so  _ horrendous  _ into the wizarding community without the people’s consent! 

They just survived another war for Merlin’s sake. Why would the Ministry spring something up like this in their times of grieving? She refused to partake in something like this. There was no way in hell she would consider showing up to be evaluated for some bloody marriage law!

Shouting in frustration, Hermione slammed the parchment on the counter and headed into the sitting room of her home. She mumbled to herself, her thoughts were scattered everywhere. The brunette was so worked up over the news that she didn’t notice that her friend was sitting near the fireplace with tea. 

“You’ve gotten your letter then,” she said, getting Hermione’s attention. 

Hermione squeaked, her wand drawn, only to set it back down when she realized who it was. 

“Blast it, Luna,” Hermione exclaimed. “You have to stop doing that.” She blinked as she realized something regarding Luna’s position. “The fireplace isn’t even lit, Luna.” 

There was a giggle, and Luna set her teacup down. “You don’t need a fire to sit and watch the fireplace, Hermione,” she replied. “Besides, I came in case you received your letter today. It appears that I was right in that assumption.” 

At the mention of the letter, the feelings that Hermione experienced resurfaced from the momentary distraction Luna caused. She sucked in a breath and shook her head. 

“It’s barbaric,” Hermione commented. “How do they expect for something like this to work?” 

Luna made a circle in the air with her hand. “Repopulation,” she answered simply. “The Ministry knows we’re not Impleknacks. We can’t repopulate asexually you know.” 

Hermione pinched the bridge of her nose. While she ignored whatever creature Luna mentioned, she knew that was true, but they didn’t have to resort to those measures. She had to find a way out of this. Surely Kingsley could give her a way out. 

“It’s inevitable, Hermione,” Luna continued. “Everyone who isn’t already married will be paired with their potential match. I’ve learned to accept it because fate’s plan for us isn’t accidental.” 

Curse Luna and her mind-reading and people-reading abilities.

“However, I did find a way that you can control your fate in a certain manner.” 

Hermione’s attention perked at that statement. Luna was just as resourceful as she was, no matter how unorthodox her ideas were. Though that might not be the best idea…

Luna was standing in front of Hermione now, and the brunette had to shake her head and blink simultaneously at the sudden change. Luna grabbed Hermione’s hands and shook them encouragingly. Hermione looked into her friend’s pale grey eyes and felt herself calming down. It was this thing that Luna did that Hermione could never figure out but didn’t mind at all. Harry nor Ron could certainly do it. 

With a smile, Luna told Hermione two words in that airy tone of hers that Hermione would potentially regret. 

“Trust me.”

* * *

 

Hermione knelt into the middle of a meadow–the location courtesy of Luna–the pink crystals settled into a circle in front of her. Luna gave her the information regarding a Beltane ritual that would allow her to pull at the one she was meant to be with. 

While trusting in fate was rubbish, Hermione’s other options consisted of death or allowing the Ministry to match her with someone. This method may not be the clearest, but it was certainly better than her other options. 

She had to wonder how the pull would happen. Would she feel it? Would she see it? How would she know? There was nothing about this ritual in the books in her library, and looking for the information elsewhere would cause questions that Hermione wouldn’t answer to anyone else other than Luna. 

Taking a deep breath, Hermione grabbed the blade she set next to her person. It was gruesome to do something like this, but Hermione had to swallow the bitter pill in order to control her love like her way. Then she’d shove it into the Ministry’s face. 

Hermione placed the blade on her palm, cutting herself sharp enough to draw blood. She clenched her hand and allowed the blood to drip onto the pink crystals. Grimacing, Hermione took her wand and healed herself quickly with a healing charm. Then, she tapped the crystals and closed her eyes, trying her best to clear her mind as she chanted the spell Luna gave her. 

_ ‘As a new day dawns, a new era of love dawns for me. I now invite my beloved into my life. I am ready. I am steady. I am open. Thank you, God and Goddess. Thank you, thank you, thank you. Blessed be. And so it is.’ _

One day she would rage the Ministry over the course of actions they take over their people, but it wasn’t that day.  _ Yet _ . 

The witch opened her eyes, looking down at the bloodied pink crystals to see what was happening. 

Absolutely nothing. 

With a frown, Hermione tilted her head; Luna wouldn’t give her fault information. Could she not be doing it right? Hermione Granger was not a woman who didn’t do something right. Though, would trying it again have the same effect it was initially supposed to have? The question only made her think of more questions, thus getting frustrated at the fact that she didn’t know the information. This was not what Hermione Granger does. It wasn’t–

The crystals started to glow in a vibrant, scarlet hue as the blood appeared to be sucked into the crystals like a sponge. 

Hermione’s lips parted in fascination and awe as the glow grew, her body reacting on instinct to back away as swiftly as she could. The wind began to pick up, blowing through her curly locks of hair and making it more unruly than usual. She shielded her face from the leaves and flower petals being taken in the winds. 

The circle the crystals glowed in was engulfed in the winds, and the wait made Hermione more anxious than she’d like to admit. 

Yet it took one final blink, and the entire display was gone. There were no more high winds, no more scarlet glows. The pink crystals had dissolved into dust. 

Placing a hand on her chest, Hermione looked around the meadow. Nothing looked out of place as it had only moments before. Her only evidence that such a thing occurred was the fact that her hair was all over the place. 

As she blew a curl away from the front of her face, Hermione flopped to her knees in the grass, the feeling of defeat settling in her bones. What was she supposed to do now?

“Want to explain what I’m doing here, love?” came a voice somewhere behind her. 

Alarmed, Hermione turned around swiftly with her wand drawn. In a short distance at the trees, there was a man leaning against a tree. His legs were crossed at the ankles at an angle, and he was staring intently at her. 

His hair was unkempt and his clothes less than pristine, but he had the poise of a refined man. 

“I second that explanation,” came another voice not too far from the first man. 

Hermione’s eyes shifted in his direction, her heart pounding in her ears. He had shorter hair that looked well kept, and his suit appeared cleaner than the former’s. 

“Where did you come from? Who are you?” Hermione questioned. The only fresh faces that Hermione wasn’t familiar with in the wizarding world was the children growing up. It came with the territory of researching any and every witch who could information to aid in Voldemort’s demise. Yet she didn’t know who these two men were, even if there was a feeling tugging inside her that made her think that she should. 

The men looked at one another, the hidden message between the two indicating that they were familiar with one another. 

“You should have some idea, love. You brought us here,” the first man drawled. 

The world started to slow down for Hermione. The ritual worked, except it worked too well. There were two men brought to Hermione as her ‘fated’, which couldn’t be right. Right? 

“I…” Hermione trailed off. 

He snapped his fingers. “Right, right, you have the faintest idea who we are.” He bowed mockingly, his hair falling in front of his face. “Rabastan Lestrange at your service.” Rabastan made a gesture with his arm towards the second man. “And this, darling, is Regulus Black.” 

Hermione’s breath hitched; both names becoming recognizable to the witch. With one problem after another regarding both men, one problem stood out even farther than their allegiance. 

They were supposed to be dead. 

The information and questions swarmed Hermione’s mind, and it began to be too much. In the most un-Hermione fashion possible, her eyes rolled to the back of her head. The rest of the world had gone black.

* * *

 

She didn’t know when she’d woken up in the field with Rabastan and Regulus, but she knew she made sure they stayed put in her home–their wands were hidden for the time being–with instructions on what to do until she returned. She had to make a trip to the Ministry. 

oo0oo

 

“This shouldn’t be possible, Minister,” Hermione exclaimed in Kingsley’s office. She’d been pacing for at least three minutes now. 

He was looking at her from his desk, his hand gripping his chin as the expression on his face screamed perplexity. 

“I’m afraid I’m at a loss, same as you, Miss Granger,” he said. “While they’re on record to be deceased, their bodies were never found. Not after Regulus disappeared and Rabastan in his cell in Azkaban.” 

Hermione shook her head. Of all the oddities, she would be gifted with one such as this. Her two–she’s still reeling on the ‘two’ bit–partners were former Death Eaters who disappeared only to return decades later from her ritual. It didn’t make sense. 

“Perhaps…” Kingsley trailed off, “perhaps they were meant to disappear, for the moment you perform such a ritual.” He’d given her a leveled look that told Hermione he disapproved of her actions. 

She didn’t have time to feel shameful when confusion and anxiety filled her body, so she returned that defiant look that told him she was left with no better option. “You’re saying that their disappearances in their years are because I brought them to this time period,” she said. 

He shook his head. “I’m saying that their disappearances were due to the fact that you were supposed to call them to this time,” he corrected. “If I were to believe myself, it’s highly possible that your decision saved their lives from a dark path of their lineages.” 

Wonderful, she was a time-traveling savior. First Luna and her suggestion to test fate, now this. 

Slapping her hands at her sides, Hermione looked at Kingsley. “What am I supposed to do, Minister? I’ve never faced a situation that I couldn’t find the solution like this.” 

Kingsley cleared his throat. “Given the complexities of this situation, I don’t believe there’s anything else you can do. If you are bonded by blood spilt, then there’s no breaking it. It’s more solid than the Unbreakable Vow and traditional wizard marriages. And triads aren’t as uncommon as you’d think...”

His mouth moved in slow motion for Hermione as she read the words his lips formed; adjust to this new life as bonded partners.

Hermione left the Ministry in a less than stellar mood. There was a way to figure this thing out; it had to be. This isn’t what she asked for. 

She ignored that nagging voice in her mind that told her that’s exactly what she asked for.

* * *

 

When Hermione arrived back to her home, she was greeted with silence. She knew it was too hopeful to think they’d disappeared again, so she went straight to the kitchen to prepare dinner the Muggle way. 

Cooking was therapeutic to her; a trait she inherited from her mother. Slicing and dicing always helped ease her worried or stressed conscious; this time would be no different. Also, she had enough charms and wards placed on the house that would alert her of foul play–even on the inside–so she wasn’t worried about what the two men were doing while she focused on preparing dinner.

Tying her hair into a bun, Hermione shifted her brain’s gears and got to work. 

oo0oo

 

“Brightest witch of her age, hm?” Rabastan commented, looking at Hermione with a sly grin. “For a muggleborn, I have to hand it to you, love. You’re everything I fought for.” 

Hermione was mid-bite into her signature roast when she heard his statement. They were rather receptive to her announcement of dinner and the fact that there weren’t any House Elves around. It made her completely suspicious of them. History had them as vicious, conniving Death Eaters, and somehow they were bound to her of all people. Fate was rather crude for that. 

Yet hearing Rabastan stirred something else in her entirely. 

“I beg your pardon?” she said after swallowing the piece of roast. 

Rabastan set his fork down, glancing at Regulus who nodded at him. Regulus cleared his throat and folded his hands together. 

“Bas and I never took the mark, Hermione,” he explained. “We were to complete our initiations before we were fully accepted by His side.” 

Hermione was at a loss for words, and her silence prompted for the wizard to continue. 

“Our initiation consisted of capturing muggleborns. In reality, I’d discovered the location of a piece he connected to himself somehow.” 

“A Horcrux,” Hermione said, receiving a nod from Regulus. 

“Yes. I intended on destroying it, and I succeeded. It nearly cost me my life, and I was ready to accept that.” 

She had a quizzical look on her face, trying to figure out how he managed to live. That’s when it hit her. “Kreacher,” she said. 

Regulus nodded once more. “He was sworn to protect me, and in my near death, he sent me somewhere in a comatose state. It was the last thing my mind registered before I was brought here.” He glanced at himself. “Granted I noticed my body adjusted as the years did until your summoning, but I’m managing.” 

Rabastan pointed his fork at Hermione. “I didn’t go get the muggleborns neither. Since I failed, I was framed for my brother’s crime. Quite the tosser, that one. Always sniffing behind Bella’s arse.” 

The comment made her snort. “Well, you’ll both be pleased to know that not only is Voldemort gone, as is Bellatrix.” 

“Good,” Rabastan grunted out. “She twisted my brother’s mind beyond repair.” 

Hermione stared at her plate for a minute. “What changed your beliefs?” she asked. She was itching to know. 

“Hypocrisy,” Regulus answered. “The Dark Lord wanted purity yet he was impure himself. So much so that he sought to spread pieces of him from his person. It only made him worse, and if I took anything from my family’s principles, it’s that impurity is a disgrace.” 

She pushed her vegetables around. “You don’t think that of me?” 

“Your blood is just as red as mine, love,” Rabastan answered, bringing another piece of meat into his mouth. “Nothing impure about you. Just like this dish; it is delightful.”

His statement made Hermione laugh softly. She’d heard something similar once; when Malfoy and his mother defected and stood by Harry’s side. They finally understood the right from wrong, even if self-preservation played a part in it. 

Once again, her well-constructed thoughts were unraveled by the men sitting across from her. She didn’t know what to think. 

The silence spread through the room quickly, and Regulus set his fork down. “I’m going to excuse myself,” he said. “Thank you for the exquisite meal. The warmest dinner I’ve had in a while.” 

She bit the inside of her cheek in order to prevent herself from telling him that ‘awhile’ was much longer than he realized. Her eyes met Rabastan’s, who was watching her steadily with a smirk. 

“Family dinners with the Black’s were typically cold if you catch my drift,” he said, beginning to stand up and leave the dinner table as well. 

That left Hermione to her conflicting thoughts. What else would she learn about the men living in her home? 

* * *

She blamed her body for being so weak.

One would think that Hermione would be equipped with a guest room. She would if she hadn’t have turned it into her study and library. So that meant she had the only bed in the house and two men who she had an idea wouldn’t be too keen with a couch or floor pallet. Magic would solve her problem if she didn’t detest using it to alter the home, so she had the option to suck it up and use magic or sleep between two men still catching up from their paths. 

Walking into her room, both thoughts were thrown out the window. 

Right before her eyes were two half-naked men. She’d given them spare clothes–thanks to keeping clothes when Harry or Ron had Auror messes–until they bought more proper ones. Though the purpose was for them to change in the  _ bathroom _ , not the  _ bedroom _ . 

Rabastan had a simple t-shirt on, but he didn’t have on any trousers and was sporting black boxers. The print near his thigh left nearly nothing for the imagination.

Meanwhile, Regulus had on plaid pajama pants, but he didn’t have on his shirt yet, thus showing Hermione that even in a comatose state, a growing, magical body could be toned nicely. 

Her gasp caught their attention, and they looked at her. She bit her lip, unable to speak as her mind trailed into a bad place. She’d have thought her mind would be exhausted by now. 

She blamed the fact that she hadn’t been on a steady date in four months...or intimate in a year. 

“We thought we’d give you the washroom first,” Regulus explained as Rabastan stood proud in his smug glory; it didn’t last long as Regulus pushed the pajama bottoms in Rabastan’s hands. “Our apologies.” 

Hermione waved her hands quickly. “No, no. I should have…” She should have what? Jumped their bones just to see how it’d feel? Merlin, she was beginning to sound like Lavender and Parvati in their 5th Year. “...I’ll just go to the bathroom now.”

Using her thumb to point in the opposite direction to the bathroom, Hermione walked backwards, her eyes never leaving Rabastan or Regulus as she did so. The image was burned in her brain now, and her body was reacting and heating something horrid. 

She practically ran in the bathroom, neglecting to lock the door. She took a deep breath as she aimed to slow her heartbeat down. Fantasizing so quickly about Regulus and Rabastan was not a good idea. Their words were meaningful, impactful; it didn’t mean she trusted them yet. 

Even though her heart was telling her to do so. The ritual wouldn’t steer her wrong. Luna said so, and she would never doubt Luna despite her irregular creature research. Those two wouldn’t be there if it weren’t meant to be. 

Fate could kiss her arse. 

Sighing, the sudden rush of heat settled in one area, and the throbbing was too much for a rusty witch to handle on her own. She stripped herself of her clothing and walked to the shower. Once inside, Hermione turned on the water and allowed the coolness to hit her body. 

It began to feel like a relief to her lower region, but her mind fought against her and brought up the idea of either man being in the shower. The water dripping off their chests, wetting their hair so she could weave her fingers into it…

Bracing herself on the front wall of the shower, Hermione bit back a groan. She concluded that while her body was treacherous and hadn’t been touched properly in a year, there had to be some kind of magic involved. The Beltane ritual was like many of the others; it represented warmth, fertility, and love. She would accept one of those things if the other two made sense. 

Right now, the only thing that made sense was her getting Rabastan and Regulus out of her mind. As her brand began to brush over her breast, another hand that didn’t belong to her slid up her side. 

Her body tensed, but not in the way she’d have thought. She wanted this...needed this. And one of the men in her mind was about to give it to her. 

“Wanting to be touched, love?” Rabastan said in a low, sensual tone in her ear. He stopped at her breast, grabbing one completely with his hand. “All you had to do was ask. Years haven’t stopped me from knowing what I’m doing.” 

She squeaked when he massaged her breast, her face flushing red. “Why?” she asked. 

Rabastan pressed himself against Hermione’s back, evidence of arousal was settled between her butt cheeks; when he had discarded her clothes without her noticing she’ll never know. “I saw what you wanted, and seeing your bare body from behind in that water stirred something in me, love. Can’t blame a man who’s stripped from his time, can you?” 

Her response would have been yes if Rabastan hadn’t pinched her nipple. Instead, all she could do was moan. 

Rabastan chuckled, rubbing himself between her cheeks while toying with her breasts. Hermione’s body responded accordingly. 

“Reg will be here soon enough,” he told her, kissing along the back of her shoulder. “He was against the idea given it was our first night with you, but I managed to persuade him with the lovely image of your arse.”

His other hand slid down her body to her sensitive area, playing with the curls above her throbbing center. 

“Say you want it,” Rabastan commanded, teasing her. 

Hermione bit her lip. A day ago she wouldn’t have imagined being in this situation, pleasured and aroused by men decades before her time that were brought to her time thanks to fate. It was madness. It was illogical. 

It was so damn good. 

Rabastan pinched her nipple harder, returning her back to reality. “Say it, love,” he said. 

Hermione couldn’t hold back a moan any longer. “I want it,” she breathed out. 

A deep chuckle vibrated against her neck before Rabastan began to nip and suck at a pulse spot. Hermione gasped and moved her hips, closing her eyes to lose herself to his ministrations. He continued to fondle her breast and kiss her neck while the hand on her vagina moved lower. A finger slipped through her wet folds, moving around in exploration. 

She moaned louder this time, silenced quickly at the feel of someone moving in front of her. Hermione opened her eyes to meet cool grey ones. Regulus looked at her with a hunger she wasn’t prepared for before he kissed her. Hermione responded by wrapping her arms around his neck and rocking her hips to Rabastan’s finger teasing her center. 

Regulus’ hands gripped her hips, moving her so she’d hit his cock with her hips thrust from Rabastan’s finger. Hermione couldn’t form words, too lost into the pleasures of not being touched in so long. It would get even harder to make coherent words when Rabastan slid his finger inside her. 

“So warm,” he purred. “So tight. I can’t wait to feel you.” 

Hermione rocked and whimpered. Her body wanted to feel him inside her, feel the stretch his thick cock would give her. Then there was the one that was right in front of her, the one she was feeling every time her hips went forward. Bloody hell, she was like a horny teenager in the Muggle movies. 

Another finger was entered inside her, and Hermione made a guttural sound in her throat. The stretch felt so good, and it was only a matter of time before she climaxed. 

Rabastan kept going, thrusting his fingers in and out of her quickly while Regulus released her lips and kissed along her neck and breasts. 

In her mind, she compared the two. Regulus proved himself to have more self-control than Rabastan, having only spoken when necessary while Rabastan teased and basked in his cheekiness. It was noticeable in their ways of intimacy, with Regulus moving fluidity and quietly while Rabastan was taking in as much of her body as he could. 

It didn’t take long for her to find her release, throwing her head back as she climaxed. Her scream held longer because Regulus chose that moment to take her nipple into his mouth. He sucked and tugged at her breast as Rabastan positioned himself at her entrance. 

“Beautiful,” he murmured before pushing himself inside, the water from the shower making it easier and slicker for him. 

Hermione’s mouth formed the shape of an ‘o’ as he stretched her, filling her completely. “Oh, Merlin,” she cried out, the sensations coursing through her body. 

“I know I won’t last long,” Rabastan said as he started to thrust into her. “You’re so hot and tight. A man’s dream.” 

Azkaban may have done a little number on the wizard as his thrusts were hard, swift, and deep into Hermione. Her body didn’t seem to mind it because she couldn’t only cry out in pleasure with a little bit of pain. Regulus kept any of that pain from her mind while his focus was on her upper body. 

She used Regulus’ shoulders to brace herself and match Rabastan’s rhythm, and they kept at the thrust and suck method until Rabastan grunted out Hermione’s name and slammed into her roughly, emptying himself inside her. 

He slipped out of her, panting against her neck and gripping a good amount of her hair. “You have to feel it, Reg. She’s amazing.” 

Hermione allowed a lopsided grin to form on her face when Regulus removed his lips from her body to kiss her again and position himself where Rabastan was prior to him. 

The witch thought she’d felt the powerful thrusts until Regulus moved inside her with a firm grip to her hips. If it weren’t for silencing charms, Hermione was sure her neighbors would know Regulus and Rabastan’s names. 

* * *

At some point, Hermione found herself between Rabastan and Regulus in her bed. It was big enough to fit them all thankfully, and they’d moved their bathroom activity to the bedroom.

It was surreal doing this, she knew that, but she’d never felt that alive in years...those men inside her with their rough and powerful thrusts were jolts of life. 

Underneath the covers, Hermione laid on her back, shifting her gaze from Regulus and Rabastan. Both men were sound asleep, and she didn’t blame them given the time they just shared. It gave her an opportunity to look at them properly. 

If it were true, they were in a time they never thought they’d be yet hoped to achieve. She gave that to them. Fate gave that to all of them. She wasn’t a firm believer in it, but she did believe in having a purpose, so if this was her purpose so be it. 

It was a swift kick to the Ministry and their laws, and she had a chance to delve into history she didn’t hear much about. On top of it, she’d have wonderful sex. Was she sure she was the same women she’d known herself to be days ago? 

Or was it that thirst for touch, knowledge, and defiance that made her go against everything she thought to be true and pure? 

Feeling a hand trail up her thigh, Hermione had the thought that this was going to be the most entertaining Springs she’d experienced in some time. She’d pity her friends for the lives the Ministry was choosing for them if she didn’t have wandering hands distracting her trail of thought again. 


End file.
